


Anonymous

by bokuakabeam



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Alcoholics Anonymous, Character Death, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Narcotics, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Character Death, References to Drugs, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokuakabeam/pseuds/bokuakabeam
Summary: And that led Bokuto to where he was now: an unemployed, fragile, shell of a person who, under threat from his very concerned but loving friends, attended weekly AA/NA meetings at the local recreation center. And that was when he met Akaashi.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Hinata Shouyou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 30
Kudos: 48





	1. Part One -- Bokuto's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I've never written anything like this before, so please bear with me while I try to figure this out! I did a lot of research, but if you see something that doesn't really make sense or is incorrect, please let me know so I can fix it!
> 
> Hope you like it!

The egg timer began chiming, pulling Bokuto from his thoughts. He’d plopped down in the chair that he now permanently kept in the kitchen for when he was cooking or baking, and had zoned out for the twenty minutes it took for his cupcakes to bake. With a small grunt, he lifted himself up and slowly made his way, first to turn off the timer, and then to turn off the oven. The heat quickly filled the room as Bokuto opened the oven door, oven mitt on his right hand to quickly grab the cupcake pan. The grate of metal against metal made goosebumps rise on his arms, but altogether he had found the baking experience to be quite calming. Bokuto made a mental note to thank Kuroo for the suggestion.

The joint scent of chocolate and vanilla wafted in the air, and Bokuto smiled softly as he just let himself stand in his kitchen, sniffing the air around him and feeling the heat from the oven slowly dissipate with the air blowing from the air conditioner. Too quickly he was snapped from his reverie as there was a sharp knock on his door, and with a sigh he took the oven mitt off his hand and made his way to the front door.

“Bo!” Kuroo was already shouting through the door, as if the three seconds it took for Bokuto to walk from one end of his small apartment to the other was too long of a wait. “Open up! We can smell the goodies!”

“Calm your tits,” Bokuto grumbled, hardly loud enough to be heard through the door. He swung the door open, revealing his three best friends with bright eyes and wide smiles.

“What did you bake for us today, Bokuto?” Hinata grinned wider, which seemed impossible given the fact that his face was already stretched wide. But the redhead could always provide smiles that would brighten a room.

“Just some cupcakes,” Bokuto spoke softly, rubbing the back of his neck. It was at that moment that he realized he was wearing the apron that Kenma had gotten him, and while he was grateful for the gift, it was kind of embarrassing.

“Nice apron, Mommy Dearest,” Kuroo teased, but there was no heat behind his words.

“Are you going to let us in, or are we just going to eat out on the doorstep?” Kenma spoke up then, still slightly hidden behind Kuroo’s body, his face buried in his phone.

“Oh! Sorry, my bad. Come in,” Bokuto jumped to attention, moving aside so his friends could glide past him. They all took off their shoes, thanked him for his hospitality, and then proceeded to make themselves at home. Just as they had been doing every day for the past two months.

“You know,” Bokuto started as he lead them into the kitchen so he could make the finishing touches on the cupcakes before serving them. “You guys don’t have to come over every day. I know you’re busy and stuff.”

“We like coming over! You make the best desserts!” Hinata bounced on the balls of his feet, his hair following suit. Bokuto just gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, well I’m not, like, fragile or anything.”

  
Kuroo gave him a look, but didn’t speak up right away. He and Kuroo had that kind of friendship, especially after being friends for as long as they had been; they didn’t need to say anything to understand the other, and that was both a good thing and a bad thing. Bokuto liked the fact that he and Kuroo could have comfortable silences and still appreciate each other’s company, but he hated the fact that he couldn’t hide anything from his best friend.

“You’re not exactly unbreakable, either, Bo,” Kuroo finally said, speaking slowly, as if he was trying to be careful with his words.

Bokuto had started icing the cupcakes but had huffed out a breath at that, keeping his gaze down on the desserts beneath him. His hands shook, and he willed them desperately to stop. He knew the wasn’t strong, especially not right now, not after everything that happened… Everything that he put himself through. But he didn’t want his face shoved in that fact.

“But—“ He started.

“There’s nowhere we’d rather be, Koutarou,” Kenma spoke softly, interrupting him while keeping his gaze trained down to the device in his hands. Only when he noticed that Bokuto had turned to look at him did he glance up, giving him a small smile.

Well, that was that, then. Bokuto continued icing the cakes in silence while Kuroo and Hinata set themselves up on the small couch, arguing over what to watch on the television.

Bokuto’s apartment was small, but recently he had grown to appreciate it. He had originally been living in a larger space, but after his injury and the loss of his position on their volleyball team, he found himself anxious in larger, emptier spaces. It just made him realize how little he had in life that wasn’t dedicated to the sport, and it only caused more and more problems for himself. So he moved to where he was living now, and he loved it. It was small, but it was more of a home than he had ever had, aside from his parents’ house. Kuroo and Hinata had graciously helped him move, and with Kenma’s help they had surprised him with a fully furnished and decorated apartment. Bokuto was always thankful for the people in his life, but seeing his three friends try their hardest to pull him from the depths and recesses of his mind was something that he couldn’t ever repay. He owed them his life.

The last of the cakes were iced, and Bokuto smiled down at his creation. He’d chosen white and blue icing, and had done his best to make a swirl on top of each cupcake so there was an even amount of blue and white on each one. They looked delicious, if he could say so himself.

“They look good,” Kenma was next to him now, slightly startling Bokuto. Kenma had always been quiet, but dammit if that kid didn’t scare the shit out of Bokuto every time he appeared out of nowhere.

“Thanks,” he gave the shorter blonde a smile, and carefully placed the cupcakes on a plate he’d set aside that was large enough to hold all twelve.

“Do you not want us to come over every day? Is it too much?”

Bokuto furrowed his eyebrows at the question, finishing with the cupcakes before he turned to look at Kenma dead-on. He spoke as he removed his apron. “I just… I don’t want you guys coming over just because you expect me to fall apart again.”

Kenma was characteristically quiet as he let Bokuto’s words sink in. Kenma and Bokuto’s friendship was similar to the one he held with Kuroo in that Kenma’s perception was nearly as good as the bedhead’s. However, the silences that they held were anything but comfortable, with Bokuto more often than not finding himself fidgeting in anticipation of what Kenma was going to say next. He knew Kenma never said anything that wasn’t intentional, but sometimes his bluntness was too much to bear.

“We’re not _wanting_ you to fall apart again, Kou. But we weren’t expecting it last time, and we weren’t prepared. We just want to be here for you when we weren’t last time.”

But maybe Kenma’s bluntness was just what Bokuto needed.

“Thanks, Ken,” Bokuto repeated, unable to come up with much more to say at that. It was true, he had kept himself from his friends for months after the surgery. He didn’t want to disappoint them again.

Together they walked into the living room, unsurprised to see that Kuroo and Hinata were still arguing over what to watch. This was a common occurrence for them, especially in the previous weeks since the three had been visiting Bokuto daily. Kenma would watch Bokuto finish in the kitchen silently (for the most part, and with the exception of today), and Kuroo and Hinata would pile up on the couch to fight over the remote, eventually agreeing on a movie or show they had seen a thousand times. It was a routine, and while Bokuto didn’t want his friends to bend over backwards to help him with his recovery, he was thankful for the repetitiveness. It gave him something to look forward to every day.

“What are we watching today?” Bokuto asked, just as he always did, while setting the plate on the coffee table. He watched as Kenma sandwiched himself between the two splayed on the couch, and he took his standard place in the recliner next to the couch.

“Into the Spider-verse!” Hinata announced, bouncing happily on the cushion, already halfway through his first cupcake.

“Is that the movie where the spiders go into the ‘verse?” Kenma teased, quirking an eyebrow but still not looking up from his phone. Bokuto grinned as Hinata just huffed out a breath and crossed his arms, but kept the smile plastered on his face. They’d seen this movie dozens of times, but it was one they all liked.

“Shut up,” Kuroo chuckled softly, wrapping his arm around Kenma’s shoulders as they settled into the couch. Kuroo had grabbed his second cupcake, while Hinata was now on his third, and Bokuto wondered if he should have made more.

Bokuto kept his eyes trained on the movie as he lounged lazily in the chair. He was only slightly aware of his position, making sure to keep his right leg elevated with an extra pillow stuffed under his knee. At this point, it wasn’t really necessary, seeing as the recovery time from his surgery had passed, but it had become habit for him now. The movie was almost to the halfway point, and the cupcakes had dwindled down to a measly three left. Bokuto had yet to have one, and it wasn’t until that point that anybody noticed, so Kuroo extracted his arm from around Kenma and reached over to hand him one.

“Here, they’re really good,” Kuroo grinned as if he was the one who’d baked them.

“I know they’re good!” Bokuto retorted, giving Kuroo a challenging grin as he took a large bite from the cake, the icing smearing on his lips.

“So…” Hinata hummed, keeping his eyes on the television, but Bokuto knew he was desperate to make eye contact with the older man. “How are the meetings going?”

Bokuto’s face drained of color, and he looked anywhere but at the three men that were now looking at him from his couch. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to them about it, but just that he didn’t like talking about it at all. He felt weak.

“Fine,” he drawled, making Hinata raise his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for an elaboration that never came.

“Do you think it’s helping?” Kuroo asked next, fiddling with his fingers, a nervous habit that Bokuto had picked up on sometime during their time in high school.

“I guess. I’ve only been going for a few weeks, so I guess it’s hard to say right now.”

“That’s good,” Kenma nodded once, taking another cursory glance at his phone before looking back at Bokuto. “And how long has it been, now?”

Bokuto nibbled at his bottom lip and closed his eyes, trying to do the mental math, but his friends noticed his fingers twitching as he counted on them.

“It’ll officially be a month next Tuesday.”

“You’re doing really good, Bo!” Hinata exclaimed, the grin returning to his face.

“I guess so,” Bokuto relented.

“You are! And you don’t look as awful as you did last week,” Kuroo added, making Kenma slap his arm. “What? He looked like shit last week, we all said it.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to say it out loud, dumbass,” Kenma mumbled, looking at Bokuto apologetically.

Bokuto understood, and he didn’t hold any ill will towards Kuroo. He knew he looked like shit last week, and while he might outwardly look better this week, he still felt the same: shitty. Withdrawals hit him hard, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to find Bokuto curled up on the bathroom floor dry-heaving. It was awful for them to see him like that, but Bokuto tried to keep the images of their shocked and concerned faces from entering his mind.

He knew how pathetic he was, he didn’t need a constant reminder.

But after nearly being away from alcohol for a month, while he did feel a slight sense of accomplishment, he mainly just missed the way he felt when he would get blackout drunk every night. The burn from the slide of the alcohol down his throat, the sting of the salty tears in his eyes until his stomach warmed, and the thoughts in his brain becoming more and more hazy with every swallow. It had started where he would just have a couple beers a night, but those beers steadily stretched into several, eventually ending with Bokuto consuming almost a full bottle of some kind of hard liquor every night. It hurt, but it hurt in a good way, and it allowed Bokuto to forget. Forget everything he had to do and everything he _could_ have done, if not for his injury. The apartment felt emptier and emptier with each passing day, and Bokuto felt more and more useless, filling his time with his drinking. He felt that he was a high-functioning alcoholic, clearly in denial, but still able to come across as put together in front of people. But it wasn’t until Bokuto didn’t answer his friends’ calls for a couple days that they really noticed the downward spiral his life had taken. And that was when Kuroo had found him barely coherent in his kitchen, head barely propped up by the lower cabinets, clutching a bottle of whiskey.

And that had led Bokuto to where he was now: an unemployed, fragile, shell of a person who, under threat from his very concerned but loving friends, attended weekly AA/NA meetings at the local recreation center.

And that was where he met Akaashi.


	2. Part Two -- Akaashi's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi looked back on that first meeting with Terushima two years later, as he sat dry-heaving in Oikawa’s apartment, and he wished he’d never gone to that corner store.

Lips to the filter, deep inhale, hold, feel the _burn_ that filled his lungs, and then exhale. The smoke left Akaashi’s lips as he sat on the concrete floor of his apartment’s balcony, knees folded underneath his chin as he clutched them to his chest. He was on his second cigarette since he’d been out there, and still he craved more. The burn, the ache in his chest, even the bitter taste of the nicotine in his mouth; Akaashi couldn’t get enough of it. He took another long drag, inhaling as much as he could while gripping the fabric of his sweatpants with one hand. His chest tightened and the lack of oxygen reaching his lungs making his head spin. Finally, _finally_ , he released the smoke from his lungs, watching as it drifted away across the night sky.

His phone that he’d placed on the ground next to him started to vibrate, making Akaashi jump slightly at the sudden noise. He glanced over, decidedly ignoring it as he saw the name that flashed across the screen. Instead, he took another deep inhale, this time letting the smoke escape from his nose, keeping his lips in a tight line. Even though he had a lot on his mind, it was easy to let everything go during his smoke breaks. The night sky was beautiful, and Akaashi wondered briefly why he’d never noticed the amount of stars he could easily see from his balcony. Before he could get too deep in his own thoughts, however, his phone vibrated loudly again.

With a resigned sigh, he flicked the ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray he’d brought outside, and answered.

“What?”

“Is that any way to speak to someone buying you dinner, ‘Kaashi-chan?” Oikawa’s soothing voice drifted through Akaashi’s phone, and he internally groaned.

“Sorry… I’m just tired.” Akaashi spoke lowly, trying to keep the volume at a minimum to respect the neighbors he had on either side of him. “What time are you going to be here?”

“I just picked up the food, so it’ll take me about ten minutes. How are you doing?” Oikawa spoke the question like he was talking to someone on the verge of a breakdown, and Akaashi frowned.

“I’m _fine_ , Oikawa-san.”

“You weren’t fine.” Akaashi cringed at the straightforward statement, Oikawa’s voice harsh compared to the normal lilt it had.

“I will be. Please, just… I’ll see you in a bit.”

  
They hung up, and Akaashi stubbed out the cigarette that he’d let burn down to the filter, and he quickly lit another.

Inhale, burn, exhale.

The cigarette hung loosely between the pointer and middle finger of his left hand, leaving his right hand to trace shapes into the cold concrete underneath him. Akaashi shook the hair that had fallen in his face, running his free hand through it to try and tame the overgrowing locks, and continued looking at the stars. It was nights like these, nights where the moon was hidden and the dark that resulted helped to hide any activity that transpired in the city; such activities that Akaashi would eagerly take part in, smoking just enough that he would be numb to anything aside from his own name and location. It felt good, and Akaashi always wanted more.

Inhale, burn, exhale.

His hands were shaking, and Akaashi quickly took a sip from the water bottle he’d been astute enough to remember to bring outside with him. Before he realized, he had drank the whole bottle, the last of the room-temperature water dripping onto his tongue and sliding down his throat. It eased the heat that the nicotine had caused in his throat, and Akaashi couldn’t have that.

Inhale, burn, exhale.

Akaashi heard the front door creak open and slam shut, and he knew that Oikawa had made it home. Instead of getting up to greet him and devour the food, he just sat. He watched the cars that drove by on the street below, watched as the wind ruffled the leaves in the trees, watched as a stray cat darted from one side of the road to the other. He stomach was empty but he didn’t feel hungry at all, and all he wanted to do was sit and watch. His ass was numb from sitting on the hard concrete for so long, and he was already halfway through his pack of cigarettes, but still Akaashi didn’t move. The backdoor slid open, the smell of meat and rice wafting from his apartment and into the night air as Oikawa stepped out, a plate in each hand.

“You want to eat out here?”

“You don’t have to—“

“Shut up,” Oikawa interrupted, shutting him down instantly. He plopped next to Akaashi, holding out one plate towards Akaashi.

  
“I’m not really hungry…” Akaashi admitted, tapping the ashes from his cigarette, but accepted the plate anyway.

It was piled high with barbecue, rice, and vegetables, and while it smelled delicious, Akaashi couldn’t help but feel nauseas now that he was looking at it. He quickly stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray, shoving the plate back into Oikawa’s waiting hands, and dashed back into the apartment. Just barely, he made it into the bathroom, sliding on his knees to hunch over the toilet. His stomach clenched, and he felt the bile rise up in his throat, but his heaves produced nothing but gasps of air.

“Akaashi?” That wasn’t good. If Oikawa didn’t use his first name or nickname, it must be time for a _talk_.

He hated Oikawa’s talks.

“I’m alright,” he managed to gasp out between deep breaths, still struggling to throw something up that wasn’t there.

“Yeah, you sound it,” Oikawa slid down next to Akaashi, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He’d replaced the food with a glass of water and some aspirin, holding both out for Akaashi to take.

“Thanks,” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat to no avail. The taste of nicotine that had started as a pleasant taste was now bitter and thick in his mouth and throat, and he was thankful for the cold water to wash it down.

The bathroom they were in was small, and Akaashi was shocked he even fit in front of the toilet with how little space there was. Now the space was crowded with both men spread out on the floor, but Akaashi didn’t say anything. What could he say? He had no claim here, this wasn’t Akaashi’s home. Akaashi had moved into Oikawa’s apartment in the past week, much to his chagrin. But, if he was really honest with himself, he couldn’t be more grateful to his friend, especially after how Akaashi had treated him the past couple years.

“Let’s try again. How are you _doing_?” Oikawa repeated the question from earlier with more emphasis, leaning forward to really look in Akaashi’s eyes.

  
The younger man shuddered and leaned back against the bathtub, a cold sweat already forming on his forehead and down the back of his neck. He and Oikawa shared the ability to read people, but the latter was always impossible to read. Akaashi, according to Oikawa, was an open book; while his face never altered from the standard blank expression he made, his eyes always gave him away. Akaashi still couldn’t tell if he considered that a positive or negative in their friendship.

“Well, I don’t feel great,” Akaashi admitted, keeping the truth for himself. Honestly, he felt like complete and utter dog shit, but he didn’t want to tell Oikawa that.

“Well, withdrawals will do that to ya,” Oikawa spoke nonchalantly, but Akaashi knew he was deeply concerned.

Akaashi had found himself in a pretty compromising position nearly two weeks prior, with Oikawa walking in on him strung out with a needle in his arm dangling from his arm. Akaashi never intended for his addiction to go as far as it did; but then, everybody assumed they would be the outlier — the person that wouldn’t get addicted to their own stash, the person that could easily quit if they decided to — and Akaashi presumed no different. It had started over two years ago, with Akaashi out on the streets with nowhere to go and nobody to turn to. Realistically, he could have called Oikawa or gone crawling home to his parents, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to do so. His parents thought he was a worthless piece of shit, so he would give them exactly that.

It was late at night, Akaashi was on the last of his money, and he used it to buy a small sandwich from the corner store. Rent and other utility bills were upcoming, and he knew that he was going to be without a home sooner rather than later. Not that he considered his shitty apartment a _home_ , by any means; but it had a bed and an air conditioning that occasionally worked, so he was satisfied. Concerns and worries floated distantly in his mind as the chill of the night air lashed his hair against his face and neck. But for the moment, he’d relished in the taste of the sandwich while sitting on the cold pavement outside the corner store.

And that’s when he’d met Terushima.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing out here?”

Akaashi looked up at the blonde man who was now standing next to him, looking down on the sitting man. “Kid? You don’t look any older than me.”

“And yet I look like I belong out here. You look like you belong in class or a library or something.” The blonde grinned, clearly surprised at the retort.

“Are you saying I look like a nerd?” Akaashi quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms to shield himself more from the cold.

“I’m saying you look young. How old are you?”

  
“Eighteen.” Akaashi watched as the blonde plopped down on the pavement next to him, their thighs brushing. The two kept their eyes trained up at the stars, but Akaashi kept glancing in his peripheral at the stranger.

“See? Young. I’m twenty.”

  
“Oh, yeah, you’re an absolute geriatric. Where’s your caregiver, I’m sure you need to take your medicine, Grandpa.”

The blonde snorted at that, slapping his knee as he chuckled. “Damn, kid. You’re alright. _Oh_ ,” he said, as if he just realized something. “You’re not… Are you?”

“Not…?” Akaashi asked, this time turning his gaze to the blonde. He was surprised to see him with a deep blush on his face, and looking anywhere but at Akaashi.

“Like… You don’t _work the streets_ right? Because you’re gorgeous, kid, but honestly this is a bad neighborhood, and—“

  
“ _Oh my God_ , no! I’m just sitting out here enjoying the peace and quiet. Or at least, I _was_ ,” Akaashi wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not, and elected for the former as he tightened the arms around his torso and brought his knees up to his chest.

“Sorry! You’re pretty and you’re out here in the middle of the night. What’s a guy to assume?”

Akaashi just clicked his tongue and turned to look back up at the sky. Quietly, almost as if he was just speaking to himself, he murmured, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

What Akaashi didn’t see was the blonde’s face softening as he studied Akaashi’s profile, biting on his bottom lip in thought. It took a few minutes, but when Akaashi turned to look at why the blonde had gone silent, their eyes met.

“What’s your name?”

“Akaashi Keiji.”

“Well, Akaashi Keiji. How would you like a job?”

Akaashi looked back on that first meeting with Terushima two years later, as he sat dry-heaving in Oikawa’s apartment, and he wished he’d never gone to that corner store. He wished he’d never come out to his parents so he wouldn’t have been kicked out, he wished that he took a menial job to pay his rent instead of becoming a dealer alongside Terushima, and he wished that he hadn’t gotten hooked on the drugs he was supposed to be selling. The feelings that came with snorting or shooting heroin — the burning lungs, the hazy brain, his tongue feeling like sandpaper in his mouth — it helped him to escape the shithole that was his life. And the worst part of it all was the fact that it was his fault; his situation was all his fault, and no amount of alcohol or narcotics could make him forget that fact.

“We’re going to get you help, Keiji. It’s all going to be okay, I promise.” He could hear Oikawa talking to him, his voice distant as Akaashi felt his head getting lighter. His vision was getting spotty and darkening around the edges, and the last thing he remembers is the feeling of cold tile flooring against his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think <3


	3. Part Three -- Bokuto's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello, my name is Bokuto Koutarou, and I’m an alcoholic.”  
> “Hello, Bokuto.”

In a way, it was almost like how Bokuto had imagined it. Meetings were held in the rec center’s gymnasium, or occasionally in the carpeted basement if the gym was holding a game. There were metal folding chairs arranged in a large-enough circle to accommodate the people expected to attend, even if that number had dwindled down to half since Bokuto had started, and there was a table off to the side with stale cookies and shitty coffee. And while it wasn’t common for movies to show an entirety of an AA/NA meeting, the clichés were still in effect; the overzealous and way-too-positive leader of the group, the defeated and run-down appearance of all in attendance, and especially the—

“Hello, my name is Bokuto Koutarou, and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hello, Bokuto.”

If he was under different circumstance, Bokuto thought he would bust out laughing. Him? An alcoholic? It never would have crossed anybody’s minds knowing Bokuto as he was growing up, and the fact that he was now forcing himself to say it out loud was almost comedic. But nobody in this meeting knew him from outside of the recreation center walls, and nobody knew his past or his backstory, aside from what he’d shared in the meeting itself. Nobody knew that the fact that Bokuto Koutarou was here at all was a tragedy.

Bokuto had been attending these meetings for a month now, once a week, and he felt pretty comfortable already with the people that he’d met there. Tsukishima, a cold, snarky blond who had started the same day that Bokuto had. He knew Tsukishima was there for drinking, just like him, but he didn’t know anything other than the fact that he did NOT like his name shortened to “Tsukki.” Bokuto learned that the hard way when one day he felt brave enough in their friendship to call him the name, only to get shot with a glare and a slap to the face. Tsukishima had immediately apologized, and seeing the way that the blond had looked terrified and despondent due to his actions, Bokuto accepted without further discussion. Semi was another blond, but was more of an ashy-blond compared to Tsukishima, and he always wore a scowl on his face. He’d been attending the meetings for a few months, from what Bokuto could gloss from how little the man talked, and he was part of the NA program. He and Bokuto had an agreement: whoever got there first would get a styrofoam cup of coffee for the other and save them a seat. (Not that that was necessary, there were plenty of seats to go around, but Bokuto found that Semi also liked to keep to a routine. So the seat-saving continued each week.)

There were two others that were regulars, at least during Bokuto’s time in the meetings, but he didn’t really have a rapport with either of them. All he knew was that one was named Kiyoko, and she always kept to herself, whereas the other was named Tendou, and he couldn’t be further from an introvert.

Their “leader”, Daichi, was always extremely kind and listened well, and his feedback was constructive enough to be beneficial without sounding too blunt or malicious. When Bokuto had first started attended the meetings, there had been ten people including himself; but since then, the number has diminished to five. Daichi made a comment in last week’s meeting with a sad chuckle about how common it was for people to attend meetings for a short period, feeling like they have made improvements in their lifestyles and habits, and end up quitting before a large relapse. Bokuto was determined not to let that happen to himself. He couldn’t be another disappointment for his friends, and despite how hard he had tried, he didn’t want to drink himself to death.

So here he was, the meeting that marked his one month anniversary, and there was a new member in their little circle of misfits. Bokuto had first noticed the man right before the meeting had started when he and Daichi walked in together. Bokuto was sat between Semi and Tendou, who were surprisingly in a conversation together talking over Bokuto, and that’s when their eyes met. And again, Bokuto couldn’t help but think: _“This is exactly how I imagined it.”_ A gorgeous man with eyes that he could find himself drowning in, gorgeous black hair that Bokuto could almost _feel_ , long fingers, good posture… He could go on. This was exactly how Bokuto had imagined his soulmate, exactly how he’d imagined _meeting_ his soulmate. They would look across a room, meeting gazes, and instantly fall in love.

Except, this is in _no way_ how he’d imagined this happening. Bokuto was sat amongst his peers of alcoholics and druggies in a dingy, musty rec center basement, attending an Alcoholic’s Anonymous meeting. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the new man that had joined them was _also_ here for a meeting. Their eyes met, and while Bokuto could see the beauty that the man was holding, it was clearly hidden under a layer of too-pale features, sweaty skin, matted hair, and baggy eyes. If Bokuto was honest with himself, the guy looked like shit. But who was he to judge? He looked like shit too! Soulmates that could look like shit together, it was a dream come true.

But then the man walked by, and everything Bokuto had in his head — images of the two sharing an apartment together, getting married, having a dog — went out the window instantly. Nicotine. The man smelled like smoke, and it overwhelmed Bokuto’s senses, almost to the point where he thought he might pass out and die.

Okay, he was being dramatic, but the guy stunk!

Daichi began the meeting, and Bokuto tried his best not to cringe as the smell of nicotine wafted over to him. The new guy was sitting on the opposite side of the circle, closest to Daichi, but the aroma instantly filled the room.

“Hello! It’s nice to see everyone, I’m glad to have you all back,” Daichi began as he always did, thanking everyone in attendance and giving them a warm smile. “Let’s start with introductions again, shall we?”

He had gestured to his left, which everyone knew would mean that they would go down the line, and end with the new guy on Daichi’s right.

“Hello, my name is Kiyoko Shimizu, and I’m an addict.”

  
“Hi, Kiyoko.”

“Hello, my name is Tsukishima Kei, and I’m an alcoholic.”

  
“Hi, Tsukishima.”

  
“Hello, my name is Semi Eita, and I’m an addict.”

“Hi, Semi.”

  
“Hello, my name is Bokuto Koutarou, and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Bokuto.”

  
“Hello, my name is Tendou Satori, and I’m an addict.”

“Hi, Tendou.”

  
Everyone turned to the new member who incidentally looked like a deer caught in headlights. Daichi gave him a reassuring smile, patting him gently on the shoulder to usher him into a standing position.

“H-Hello, my name is Akaashi Keiji, and I’m… I’m an addict, I guess.”

  
“Hi, Akaashi.”

Akaashi looked as if he was given the best gift ever as soon as he was able to sit down, and Bokuto came to the conclusion that the man just didn’t like the attention all on him. Daichi started speaking, a spiel that Bokuto had listened to several times in the past month, asking for them to go around in a circle to talk about their positives and negatives of the past week. And, as always, Tendou’s hand shot up to volunteer to speak first.

“Go ahead, Tendou.”

  
The redhead bounced in his seat, his body rocking from side to side as if he was trying to dial back his energy before he exploded. Bokuto always admired Tendou’s hairstyle, and not because it resembled his own, but the fact that Tendou swore he didn’t use any product. “It just stands up on its own, I swear dude!” He’d told Bokuto once, and Bokuto just pouted as he adjusted his stiff hair for the millionth time that afternoon.

“Well, let’s see, Daichi! Oh! That rhymed,” Tendou giggled at himself, sitting on his hands as he continued to rock, his shoulders brushing Bokuto’s occasionally as he did. “Anyway, I think I had a good week. It’s been three months since I last used, well three months and two days now, and my friends took me out to celebrate—“

“That’s awesome, Tendou!” Daichi blurted out, almost as if he couldn’t help the pride that bursted from his chest.

“Thanks, cap’n!” Tendou grinned even wider, and images of Hinata’s grin flashed through his mind, making Bokuto chuckle softly. “Anywho! My week went well; we had the celebration at a bar, and I limited myself to two drinks, even though booze was never my problem—“

  
“Lucky bastard,” Tsukishima teased, making Bokuto laugh louder this time. Daichi shot Tsukishima a look, but couldn’t help the smile that quirked his lips.

“Yeah, I know, sorry…” Tendou trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck but giving the group an apologetic smile. “The only negative thing was that the past few nights have been kinda hard.”

  
“How so?” Daichi prompted, leaning forward in his seat and clasping his hands together.

“Well lately I haven’t really been having the urge for anything at all!” Tendou started, biting his lip. “But I don’t know. The past few nights I’ve really just been wanting something to take the edge off.”

“Have you tried any of the suggestions from the pamphlets I gave you all during the last meeting?” While he spoke, Daichi reached behind him in his messenger bag and pulled out two pamphlets; one he kept for himself and the other he passed to Akaashi. “In fact, has anyone tried any of the suggestions from here? They’re really helpful, in my opinion at least, in taking your mind off of any urges you may have and putting your time and effort into something a little more constructive.”

  
Bokuto raised his hand, but didn’t wait for an acknowledgement before speaking. “I started writing lists — that was one of the things on the pamphlet — but my friend Kuroo also suggested baking as something to keep me occupied. I think that’s really been helping me… Plus I think I’ve gained a few pounds.” He got a laugh at that from the whole group, excluding Akaashi.

“Baking is an excellent suggestion, Bokuto!” Daichi commended him, and Bokuto grinned to himself.

  
“Excuse me… How is baking supposed to help me get over my addiction?”

Everyone turned to the newcomer, and almost instantly when the words left his mouth Akaashi shrunk into his chair, as if he’d spoken out of turn.

“S-Sorry… I just… I don’t understand,” Akaashi quickly backtracked, fiddling with his fingers. Bokuto tilted his head to the side as he appraised Akaashi, mindlessly noting that he and Kuroo shared the same nervous tick.

“That’s okay, Akaashi. Questions are welcome here,” Daichi assured, smiling at him again. “Baking, and anything else in those pamphlets, aren’t really to help you _get over_ your addiction, but they are ways of keeping your mind off of your negative habits. Like I said, it’s a more constructive use of your time. But what works for each person is different! For example… Bokuto! Can you try and explain to us why writing lists and baking works for you, as opposed to other things on the list?”

Bokuto felt a little taken aback at being in the spotlight, but he pushed his nerves aside quickly and plastered on a smile. “Sure! So basically with writing lists, I think it just helps me to keep my day on track. Like before, when I was drinking my life away, I never had a set plan because… Well I was falling down drunk every day,” Bokuto chuckled self-deprecatingly. “But with the lists I feel like I have more control, I guess would be the way to put it. Like I can do whatever I want to do because _I’m_ the one writing it down, and I don’t have to do something that I don’t want if I don’t add it to the list. And I get a little sense of accomplishment when I can check things off my list, so it gives me something to look forward to every day. I dunno, I guess that’s kind of dumb—“

  
“What about baking?” Akaashi was looking at Bokuto, and he couldn’t tell what kind of expression the newcomer was making. Bokuto, contrary to what people thought, was extremely good at reading others. But he found himself struggling to understand Akaashi. But it seemed, at least, that he was taking an interest in what Bokuto was saying.

“W-Well, with baking I think it’s just that it’s a set thing.”

  
“What do you mean?” Kiyoko spoke up then, and it was at that moment that Bokuto realized that everyone was leaning forward in their seats, hanging on every word he spoke.

“I guess I mean that, like, baking is precise. Half a cup of sugar, one cup of milk, and so on. You just follow the directions, and you get yourself a pretty good dessert. You can still mess things up, but it’s pretty hard to, unless you don’t have a single baker’s bone in your body. Plus, I like it when I bake something and my friends come over and eat with me. It makes me feel like I’m useful again.”

_Ooh, that was too far,_ Bokuto snapped his mouth shut, quickly bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt.

“Why don’t you feel useful to your friends, Bokuto?” Daichi wouldn’t let it drop that easily, and Bokuto’s heart sank.

“I didn’t mean… Shit, you caught me, Daichi!” Bokuto smiled but let out a deep sigh. “Since they’ve been having to take care of me and stuff after all this shit happened, after all the shit _I_ did, I guess I just feel bad. They are doing so much for me, and I’m just a fucking mess.”

“I think it is important for you to have a conversation with them. These are your friends from high school and college, correct? What were their names?”

  
“Kuroo, Kenma, and Hinata.”

  
“Ah, yes, that’s right. You’ve spoken about them previously. Yes, I think you need to have a conversation with them about how you’re feeling. Let them know that you feel the dynamic between you four has changed, and that you feel as if you don’t offer enough. Is that about how you’re feeling?”

  
Bokuto just nodded at that, feeling a large lump forming in his throat.

“Based on what little I know about them, just from what you’ve spoken about, I don’t think they feel that same way about you. You’re a very kind and generous person, Bokuto.”

  
“Thanks, Daichi,” Bokuto mumbled, opting to look at his feet rather than the rest of the group. “Can someone else go? I’ve been talking for-fucking-ever.”

The group laughed quietly, and Daichi moved on to more things that were on the pamphlets he’d passed out, and Bokuto tuned him out for the remainder of the meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think so far! It means the world to me! :) <3


	4. Part Four -- Akaashi's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Akaashi?”
> 
> Akaashi looked up, half-expecting Oikawa to have caught him red-handed, but his eyes landed on a figure he didn’t recognize. It was a well-built man in gray sweats and a brightly-colored tanktop. His hair was gray with black streaks, and it hung loosely over his forehead. And the brightest, most golden pair of eyes that Akaashi had ever seen stared right back at him. 
> 
> “Do I know you?”

The cigarette hung loosely from Akaashi’s lips, the smoke wafting from his mouth and into the crisp air. The sun was low in the sky, creating beautiful hues of pinks and oranges; birds were chirping, and the wind was just barely there, making the leaves in the trees below his balcony shift and sway, as if listening to music that Akaashi couldn’t quite hear. The weather that day couldn’t have been more sublime.

It was disgusting.

Akaashi’s hands continued to shake, but he knew it wasn’t from any sort of physical chill, and he took another long, aching drag from his cigarette. He felt the skin on the back of his neck and along his forehead start to prickle with sweat, and he wiped his brow quickly with the back of his free hand. It was only when he started pacing back and forth on the balcony that Oikawa slid the door open, leaning against the frame with a cocked eyebrow.

“What?” Akaashi snapped, not stilling his movements.

“You look like sh—“

  
“I know I look like shit! I know! Fuck off!” He could feel his emotions fluctuating, and subconsciously Akaashi knew he wasn’t actually mad at Oikawa. But dammit if that brunet didn’t know how to grate on his nerves with his _Oikawa-ness._

Oikawa just tilted his head, watching for a few moments in silence as Akaashi continued his stiff-legged walk.

“What?” Akaashi asked again, this time spinning to a stop directly in front of his friend.

“Your oven timer went off, I just came out to tell you.”

  
“Shit,” Akaashi pushed past him and into the apartment, the smell of chocolate immediately filling his senses.

  
“Oi!” As he breezed past his friend, he felt the cigarette slip from his fingers as Oikawa snatched it, quickly disposing of it outside. “No smoking in the house, ‘Kaashi-chan, you know the rules.”

  
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, quickly turning the oven off and grabbing some oven mitts.

“Why the sudden interest in baking again?” Oikawa slumped down in the barstool that was situated at the end of the kitchen’s island, propping his face in his hand as he watched Akaashi pull the contents from the oven.

“It was something suggested to me in the NA meeting,” Akaashi said flippantly, feeling the burn of the hot metal even through his oven mitt. He sucked in a sharp breath and dropped the pan onto the stovetop with a loud _clang_ , and released his breath. “I don’t think it’s really my area of expertise.”

“Yeah, I should say so. It’s to keep your mind occupied, right? Was baking the only thing suggested?”

“No…” Akaashi trailed off, only half-listening as he poked and prodded at the cake he’d made. It didn’t look all too bad, but it didn’t look that delicious either.

“What else is there you can try? I could help you.” Akaashi just pointed behind him at the counter, and Oikawa reached over and snatched the pamphlet.

Akaashi transferred the cake onto the cooling rack, as per the instructions he’d pulled from the Internet, and turned to sit across from Oikawa, who was now flipping through the contents of the pamphlet and humming softly.

  
“Baking isn’t even on here, where did you get that?” Oikawa asked absent-mindedly, keeping his gaze trained on the information in front of him.

“One of the other people in the group mentioned that it helped him, so I wanted to try it. He made a good case for it.”

Oikawa quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. “How about list-making? That’s on here, and that sounds simple. Or… joining the local gym! That sounds like fun, let’s do that!”

Akaashi groaned and gave his friend an incredulous look. “Do you know how shitty my lung capacity is nowadays? I think I might keel over if I even look at a treadmill.”

Oikawa huffed and ignored Akaashi’s complaints, instead deciding to pulling a notepad and pen from one of the kitchen drawers. “If you quit that smoking, that would help _tremendously_ , ‘Kaashi-chan.”

“You know I can’t,” Akaashi mumbled, snatching the pen and pad from him.

  
“Alright, so maybe make out a list of things you need to get done on a week-to-week basis, and then we can focus on more of the daily stuff afterwards.”

Akaashi should have known that the next day, at ass-crack o’clock, Oikawa would be dragging him out of bed.

“I really don’t think—“

“Nonsense, Keiji,” and Akaashi knew that when Oikawa said his given name, he meant business. “We’re going to do this, and we’re going to have fun, and your mind is going to be empty! Deliriously empty after an hour or two of vigorous exercise!”

Akaashi groaned outwardly as he let himself be dragged up the pavement to the closest gym to Oikawa’s apartment, already dreading the whole experience.

The gym was small but looked clean and well-kept. There were several machines lined up along each of the walls, as well as many scattered throughout the free space left in the building. Towards the back, past the front desk, there were areas for locker and changing rooms. After a quick argument over who would be paying for their trip that day, with Oikawa inevitably winning, Akaashi again was ushered now into the changing rooms. Oikawa has let him borrow some exercise gear, and now, seeing himself in the mirror, he wished he’d fought him on that.

“No way, Tooru. I’m not wearing this shit.”

“You have to!” Oikawa’s sing-song voice trailed towards Akaashi, and with one more mortifying glance at the mirror, he went out.

The shirt alone was fine, just a little more form-fitting than Akaashi was comfortable with. It was the shorts he had a problem with. The idea that these could even be called _shorts_ was an understatement. These bad boys were _short._ Akaashi was self-consciously trying to pull them further down his thighs without showing too much of his lower torso as he rounded the corner to face Oikawa.

“You look great, ‘Kaashi-chan!”

“I look like a stripper.”

“A high-end stripper!”

Akaashi shot him the deadliest glare he could manage before stalking off, choosing a machine furthest away from everybody else. The only thing he really recognized was a treadmill, so he set himself up on the lowest setting, popping his headphones in and began walking. As the sun was steadily rising in the sky, more and more people began filling up the gym. Akaashi kept his head down, focusing on the numbers on the machine in front of him as he slowly walked one, two, three miles. It really wasn’t very hard, but it was time-consuming, and he found himself growing restless. Oikawa would occasionally come over to check his progress, but when Akaashi would settle him with another glare over his outfit, Oikawa would just grin sheepishly and run off to another machine. A couple hours passed, and Akaashi had had enough.

_I need a cigarette._ Akaashi went into the locker room where he’d left his bag, rifling through it to grab the pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and darted outside before Oikawa caught him. There was a small concrete wall on the outside of the gym that Akaashi settled himself on, the skin on the back of his thighs quickly growing accustomed to the cold cement. His hands shook as he pulled a cigarette from the carton, struggling a few times to click the lighter on. The quiet sizzle of the cigarette as it was lit had a calming effect on Akaashi, and the first drag finally settled the pit that had been growing in his stomach.

Inhale, burn, exhale.

“Akaashi?”

Akaashi looked up, half-expecting Oikawa to have caught him red-handed, but his eyes landed on a figure he didn’t recognize. It was a well-built man in gray sweats and a brightly-colored tanktop. His hair was gray with black streaks, and it hung loosely over his forehead. And the brightest, most golden pair of eyes that Akaashi had ever seen stared right back at him.

“Do I know you?”

“Bokuto Koutarou…” The man pointed to himself. “I’m in your, uh… Your class.”

  
“My class?” Akaashi cocked an eyebrow.

“The meeting… Y’know?” Bokuto mumbled, looking around to make sure nobody else was around.

  
“Oh, the Narcotics Anonymous meeting?” Akaashi spoke louder than normal, taking another drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke escape his lips as he laughed at Bokuto’s widened eyes.

“Sorry, if I had known you were here earlier, I would have stopped by to say hi or something.”

Akaashi couldn’t help but let his smile soften, patting the concrete next to him invitingly. “Eh, I was hidden in the back. I don’t really like working out.”

  
“Really?” Bokuto asked, incredulous, plopping down next to Akaashi. His nose crinkled as Akaashi took another drag from his cigarette, but he didn’t say anything. “I love it!”

  
“Yeah, I can tell," Akaashi murmured, dragging his eyes along Bokuto's muscular arms and torso. "Is this another one of your ‘take your mind off of it’ things? Because let me tell you, your baking suggestions was absolute dog shit.”

  
Bokuto snorted, crossing his legs underneath himself and turning to look at Akaashi’s profile. “Lemme guess, you burnt it?”

  
Akaashi scoffed, following suit so that the two were facing one another. “As if! I did everything the website said to do, and the cake still turned out like shit!”

“Maybe because you don’t bake with _love_ , ‘Kaashi!”

  
“Yeah, whatever. Oh, that’s why I didn’t recognize you. Your hair is down,” Akaashi spoke his thoughts aloud, tilting his head as he took in Bokuto’s appearance. At the meeting his hair had been ridiculously spiked up, compared to now where it hung loose and was slightly matted due to sweat.

Bokuto just shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t like to style it when I’m gonna get all sweaty, so I just go au natural.”

Akaashi hummed as a response, looking out at the parking lot of the gym. More cars had filled up the spaces, and he couldn’t help but wonder which one was Bokuto’s.

“Oh, my God!” Bokuto broke out laughing now, and Akaashi leaned back slightly.

_Bokuto has a nice laugh._

  
“Wh-What are you laughing at?”

  
“I-I just s-saw what you’re w-wearing!” Bokuto struggled to get words out between his gasping laughter, clutching his stomach. “I just never would have expected someone like you to wear something like-like that!”

“What do you mean ‘someone like me’?” Akaashi pouted, kicking at Bokuto’s shins in the hopes that he stops laughing.

“I’m sorry, ‘Kaashi, I’m not laughing at you. I just mean, you seemed so like… Put together at the meeting, and now you’re wearing like, barely anything. Lemme see your ass, I wanna see if you have ‘Juicy’ written on the back of those teensy shorts!”

“Oh, fuck off! I took up list-making, so let me mark down that I got my daily ‘Talk with an idiot’ task taken care of!”

Bokuto laughed louder at that, and Akaashi felt a sense of pride swell in him. _Bokuto laughed because of something I said._

“Make sure to also mark down that you completed your task of ‘Shoving a stick so far up my ass that I can’t appreciate when someone is being nice to me’.”

Akaashi grinned and looked away, only to notice that his cigarette had burned down to the filter. He furrowed his brows and stubbed it out, discarding it in the trash can a few feet away. When he came back, Bokuto had calmed down from his laughing fit and was now what looked to be like deep thought. Akaashi stood and looked at him for a moment, taking in his appearance. Bokuto seemed different, and Akaashi couldn’t put his finger on what had changed in the few short days since they’d met. At the meeting Bokuto had seemed kind and extremely loud, his voice carrying in the small room they’d been in; but he also had seemed distant and just a touch bit shy, like he didn’t want anyone to know more about him than he allowed himself to put forward. And while he was still loud now, he almost seemed more accessible, like somebody that Akaashi could find himself occasionally talking to, or even becoming friends with. Conversing with Bokuto was surprisingly easy, and Akaashi was quickly becoming overwhelmed with how badly he wanted to remain in the man’s presence.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

“Hey,” Bokuto spoke then, pulling them both out of their own thoughts. “I was thinking… If you’re not doing anything after the meeting next week, do you maybe want to hang out afterwards? I could teach you how to bake something, if you want!”

Akaashi nodded his head hastily, only slightly embarrassed with how desperate he was coming across. “Yes, I’d like that, Bokuto.”

After a brief moment where they exchanged numbers, Bokuto waved farewell to Akaashi and walked to his car. Akaashi stood in place watching as the man drove off, and only after he was out of sight did Akaashi settle himself back onto the concrete wall. It was the first time in a long time that Akaashi just sat, taking in his surroundings and breathing in the fresh air around him, and he didn’t think about anything except for his upcoming NA meeting, and what would come after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think :) <3


	5. Part Five -- Bokuto's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto couldn’t find any desire within himself to speak up about his past, but he was getting quickly lost within himself. How had he started down the path of no return? 
> 
> The easy answer was when he got injured, but Bokuto knew deep down that it had started before that. 
> 
> With Konoha.

“Hey, Bokuto, are you _sure_ about this?” Kuroo repeated the question he’d been asking for the past hour, earning a glare and an eye roll from the man in question.

They were in Bokuto’s kitchen again, but this time it was Kuroo keeping Bokuto company while Kenma and Hinata lounged in the living room. Bokuto had been baking cookies to take to his meeting later in the afternoon when Kuroo barged in, demanding to know the meaning behind his ‘I’m going to have a guest over later’ text message.

“For the millionth time, _yes_! What’s the big deal? It’s just a guy—“

  
“Yeah, a guy you met in a Narcotics Anonymous meeting!” Kuroo’s bluntness cut through Bokuto’s mind, and he grimaced.

“Yeah, well, shouldn’t he be as wary as me? He met me in the same fucking situation, Kuroo.”

Kuroo rubbed at his face, leaning forward against the kitchen counter to hide his face in his arms. “That’s not what I meant, Bo,” he spoke again, his voice muffled by his skin. “I just mean… I guess I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I just want you to be careful. You’re both not in good situations right now, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  
Bokuto scoffed, continuing to calmly whisk the ingredients together as he turned to face his friend, a piece of his styled hair falling into his face. He leaned his hip against the counter casually, but shot Kuroo a look of contempt.

“I think out of anybody, I’d be the one to do the hurting, don’t you think?”

Kuroo jolted up with wide eyes, looking at Bokuto with an expression that Bokuto couldn’t full read.

“Kou…”

  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bokuto snapped, spinning around to face the counter, keeping his gaze trained on the task at hand rather than his incredulous friend. “Just… Go pick a movie. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Without another word, Kuroo clambered out of the room and left Bokuto to himself in the steadily-warming kitchen. Bokuto huffed a breath, swiping his fallen hair back into place and wiping the sweat off his brow. He took his time finishing the cookies, making sure they were in perfect circles before sliding the two metal trays into the oven and setting the egg timer. He hadn’t been sure what flavors to make, so he made a variety, and he was happy with the selection he would have to offer that night. Once the timer was set up and the oven was quickly making the kitchen feel like a sauna, Bokuto glanced a look at the cabinet closest to his refrigerator. Just a few weeks ago, that cabinet had been stuffed to the brim with bottles, brown and clear liquids that Bokuto had so heavily relied on. And at that moment, he felt a twinge, a strong _urge_ in his stomach, wanting something.

“Bo! Get in here! We’re gonna watch The Princess Bride! Tetsurou’s never seen it!”

Bokuto snapped out of his own thoughts as Hinata’s shrill voice carried through the apartment. With one more glance at the now-empty cabinet, and ignoring the yearning he held in his throat, he went into the living room with his friends.

All too quickly, the movie ended, the cookies were wrapped, and Bokuto was on his way to the meeting. He was excited to see Akaashi, but he was also dreading the fact that he was _excited to see Akaashi_. Bokuto had been wracking his mind for days, wondering what it was about the man that made Bokuto so eager to see him again, and he came up with nothing. It was just something about him, and Bokuto found himself wanting to figure the man out. But that’s what scared him: Bokuto had never had to figure somebody out before. It usually came so easy for him to read somebody or read a situation, and the fact that he couldn’t discern anything about this new person made him hungry for more. (And yes, okay, he looked hot as fuck in those tiny little shorts.)

Bokuto tightened the grip on the container of cookies, whipping the door to the rec center open and making his way down to the basement.

_Nobody wants to deal with the broken people_ , Bokuto thought, fleetingly, before shaking his head clear. He wouldn’t want to deal with himself either.

“Bokuto! You come bearing treats?” Tendou was quick to speak up, hopping up to meet Bokuto just as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Yep! You said your favorite was snickerdoodles, right? I have some in here!” Bokuto grinned as he saw Tendou’s face light up, and the container was snatched out his hands before he could say another word.

“Bokuto, that was very nice of you,” Daichi spoke up, coming over to shake his hand in a kind greeting. “And it was good timing, I kind of forgot the refreshments today.”

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think to bring anything to drink—“ Bokuto cursed himself, before getting interrupted.

“Hey, I brought everyone some coffee, I hope you don’t mind.” A voice spoke up, and Bokuto had to quickly move himself from the bottom of the stairs to let Akaashi walk in, precariously carrying two drink holders’ worth of beverages. “No offense, but the coffee last time sucked.”

Bokuto snorted, and Daichi blushed but smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, coffee is not my strong suit. Thanks, Akaashi.”

They all took a few minutes to pass around cookies and beverages, and waited for the last couple people to arrive and settle in before they did introductions.

“Hello, my name is Kiyoko Shimizu, and I’m an addict.”

  
“Hi, Kiyoko.”

“Hello, my name is Tsukishima Kei, and I’m an alcoholic.”

  
“Hi, Tsukishima.”

  
“Hello, my name is Semi Eita, and I’m an addict.”

“Hi, Semi.”

  
“Hello, my name is Bokuto Koutarou, and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Bokuto.”

  
“Hello, my name is Tendou Satori, and I’m an addict.”

“Hi, Tendou.”

“Hello, my name is Akaashi Keiji, and I’m an addict.”

  
“Hi, Akaashi.”

Bokuto and Akaashi’s eyes met just as Akaashi sat back down in his seat, and Bokuto couldn’t help but blush and look away. When did he turn into a high schooler again? If it wasn’t for the empty pit in his stomach and the way he could feel his eyes sag lethargically, he would think he _was_ back in high school, especially the way Akaashi was making him feel. He took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the feel of the burning liquid running down the back of his throat, and tuned back into what Daichi was saying.

  
“Alright, so today I figured we could go through our positives and negatives of the week again, but I also want to try something different.”

There were teasing groans in the group, as if a teacher had just announced a pop quiz. Daichi chuckled and glared at them all good-naturedly.

“Oh, come now. Participation is completely optional, but I think this might really help some of you. After talking about our weeks, I thought it might be beneficial to hear from one or two of you about how you came to be here.”

Eyes widened, and Bokuto looked around to see if he was alone in his incredulousness. Apparently not. Every one of them, himself included, looked at Daichi as if he had three heads. None of them at this point had felt comfortable enough to talk about their past in great detail, and Bokuto felt bile rise up as his nerves skyrocketed.

“Calm down. Like I said, it is completely optional. If nobody feels comfortable speaking up, we just won’t do it this time. But I think you can’t really move on from your demons unless you face up to how they became your demons in the first place. Anyway, Tendou, do you want to start about your week?”

Tendou began gesturing wildly, describing something or other that he’d done in the past few days, but Bokuto couldn’t hear past the rush of blood in his ears. He couldn’t find any desire within himself to speak up about his past, but he was getting quickly lost within himself. How had he started down the path of no return? The easy answer was when he got injured, but Bokuto knew deep down that it had started before that. With Konoha.

“Bokuto? Bokuto!” Daichi raised his voice slightly, finally pulling Bokuto back to the present. Bokuto blushed when he realized the entire group was looking at him, and he scratched at the back of his neck.

“S-Sorry, what was the question?” Bokuto’s voice sounded small, and he took another large gulp of his quickly-cooling coffee.

“I asked if you wanted to talk about your week,” Daichi said, his smile reassuring, but concerned.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Well, as you can all tell, I’m still baking. How are the cookies, by the way?”

  
“Bokuto, you need to bring these every time!” Tendou spoke, his voice muffled between bites of cookies. “More snickerdoodles, please, sir!”

“They are delicious, Bokuto,” Tsukishima spoke up next, and Bokuto grinned at that. Anything that made Tsukishima talk was worth noting.

  
Everyone else in the group just nodded their agreement. So Bokuto continued.

“Alright, sweet. I’ll try and bring more next time! Anyway, I’ve been baking, and spending more time with my friends. I haven’t talked to them yet, Daichi, I knew you were gonna ask that. I just… Haven’t found the right time. But I will. I promise. And, let’s see… I’ve been going to the gym more,” Bokuto let his gaze land on Akaashi, earning a blush from the man before he continued with a smirk. “Yeah, the gym has been easier for me to go to.”

“That’s good, Bokuto! I know you were struggling for a bit there because you haven’t been able to get back up to the same workout regimen that you were used to,” Daichi smiled warmly. “And while you might not get back to the same point, just going and working on yourself both mentally and physically is an amazing feat. I’m proud of you!”

“Gee, thanks,” Bokuto blushed and looked away, rubbing at the back of his neck self-consciously. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

  
“It is, Bokuto. Anyway, so any negatives you want to share with us?”

Bokuto hummed in thought. “This week was actually alright. It wasn’t until a few hours ago, actually, where I felt the urge to drink something again. But I didn’t,” He spoke the last part quickly, as if he had to convince everyone that he was still clean.

“Did something trigger the urge to drink again? Or was it just something fleeting?” Daichi prompted, leaning forward slightly in his chair to really focus on Bokuto.

“W-Well…” Bokuto shot another glance at Akaashi, struggling to come up with an excuse but coming up empty. “My friend, Kuroo, was just trying to talk to me. And it kind of got heated, but we’re alright now.” Bokuto was speaking choppily, but he was trying to keep it as vague as possible.

_Why am I trying so hard? It’s not like Akaashi said we_ shouldn’t _talk about us hanging out._ But despite that fact, Bokuto went silent, huffing out a breath.

“And that’s okay, Bokuto. You didn’t give into any urges you had, and we all get into arguments with our friends. It’s completely alright, and I think you’re doing great.”

  
Daichi began speaking more to that, about how it was okay to feel cravings or impulses, and that it was normal to feel them during times of stress. Sneakily, Bokuto kept glancing over towards Akaashi, trying to read his response to what Daichi was saying. Akaashi’s face remained as it always did: calm and collected, as if nothing anybody could say would affect him. Bokuto furrowed his brows and narrowed his gaze on the raven-haired man, trying desperately to see through any cracks in the walls that Akaashi put up. It wasn’t until Daichi clapped, ready to move on, when Bokuto snapped back into reality.

“So, I know you all seemed a little apprehensive when I brought it up, but is anyone willing to share?” Daichi spoke slowly, calmly, as if he might spook any of the members in their little circle.

“I’ll go,” and Bokuto was as shocked as the rest of the group when Tsukishima was first to speak up.

“Really?” Daichi let his surprise out in the single word but quickly composed himself, unable to hide his excitement.

Tsukishima fidgeted in his seat; Bokuto wasn’t sure if it was discomfort from sitting in the metal chair for an extended period of time, or if it was from having the group’s attention solely on him, but Tsukishima looked uncomfortable nonetheless.

“I don’t know where to start,” Tsukishima finally admitted, running his hands through his hair until he achieved a more disheveled look.

“You can start anywhere you’re comfortable. Is there a certain point in time where you realized you had a problem with drinking? Let’s start there: how did you come to join our little family here?”

  
Semi snorted at the use of the word ‘family’, and earned a glare from Daichi.

“Well, I came here really just to get my brother off my back,” Tsukishima admitted, looking at his feet as they rested on the floor beneath him. “He was really the only one that noticed how bad I had gotten. I was living alone at that point—“ Tsukishima was cut off by his own voice, a sound escaping his lips that surprised the entire room.

Tsukishima had let out a small and quiet sob.

“Kei,” Daichi spoke softly, moving to sit directly next to Tsukishima and placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “It’s alright.”

  
Tsukishima just shook his head quickly, as if trying to make the tears that were cascading down his cheeks disappear with each shake.

“Nothing’s alright! Nothing is alright anymore,” Tsukishima whimpered, scrubbing his face harshly with his hands and clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

  
“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay. This is good, in fact. You know, it hurts so bad reliving things like this… But reliving it will help you be able to move on, you know? It’s okay to let yourself go, it’s okay to cry and be upset—“

  
“I’m upset, alright. I’m fucking _pissed_ ,” Tsukishima admitted, finally looking up to meet the eyes of everyone in the group. “Why out of anyone in the fucking world, did my life have to get fucked up the way it did? Why out of anyone, did he have to get taken away from me?”

“Who?” Daichi prompted.

“ _Tadashi_ ,” Tsukishima let out a revered whisper, as if he hadn’t spoken the name in so long. “He was my boyfriend. We’d been together since high school, but we were friends for much longer. He was my everything.”

“What happened to him?” Tendou spoke up, his voice a surprisingly low register compared to how he normally spoke.

“Car accident,” Tsukishima answered, clearing his throat again before taking a swig of the coffee Akaashi had given him. It had to be cold by now. “We lived together, but he had gone out of town on a work trip, and he wouldn’t be back until the day _after_ our anniversary. But we agreed we would just celebrate when he got back. No harm, no foul, right? But Tadashi never listened to me. Even back in grade school, once he finally became confident in himself — he never saw himself the way I saw him, he never saw his own worth — he always stood up to me. He saw right through this apathetic mess of a person, and saw someone worth loving. And Tadashi loved with everything in him.”

There was a moment of silence as Tsukishima sniffled, a fresh set of tears replacing the old that had dried on his cheeks. Then he continued.

“Anyway, even though we agreed to wait, he wanted to surprise me. So he got a taxi really late that night, after he was done with all his meetings, and was coming home. He was coming home to me,” Tsukishima’s voice broke again. “H-He was going to propose to me that night, I think. They found— They found a ring in his pocket. That dumbass couldn’t wait one more day to see me, and he got into a taxi and never got back out of it. The car was hit in a head-on collision, and he died on impact.

“So that’s why I started drinking, teach,” Tsukishima let out a dark chuckle, tilting his head to the side to look at Daichi. “I drank to forget, I drank to feel something other than the pain that was in my heart, and all those other cliche things you hear from alcoholics like me.”

Tsukishima stopped speaking after that, fiddling with the now empty cup of coffee in his hands. Nobody dared to move or speak, and Bokuto could hardly hear anyone breathe; the only sounds in the room were the ticking of the clock that hung haphazardly on the wall, and the quieting sniffles from Tsukishima.

“Thank you, Kei,” Daichi spoke up first. “Thank you for telling us about him. I am deeply sorry for your loss.”

Tsukishima just waved him off before glaring at the rest of the group. “Alright, I went first, so one of you better go next time, or I’ll kick all of your asses.”

Everyone let out relieved laughs as the tension that had settled in the room slowly lifted. Daichi patted Tsukishima once more on the shoulder before adjourning the meeting, wishing everyone a good week and that he would see them at the following meeting. Tendou, Semi, and Kiyoko milled about at the refreshments table finishing off Bokuto’s cookies, while Tsukishima stood shakily.

“Hey, Tsukishima,” Bokuto sidled up to him, giving him a small smile.

“Hey, Bokuto.”

  
“Listen, did Tadashi call you—?”

  
“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry,” Bokuto blurted out, instantly feeling guilt and regret build up in his stomach. “I had no idea, I never would have call you that if I had known.”

  
“I know, Bokuto. It’s okay. Sorry for slapping you. I think if anyone else were to call me that, I think I’d be glad it’s you. Just maybe… Not yet.”

Bokuto froze for just a moment before he grinned widely. “Sure, Tsukishima. Just let me know.”

Tsukishima gave him a slight nod and a glimpse of a smile, before departing, making his way back upstairs.

“Hey.”

  
Bokuto turned, his grin getting impossibly wider as he came face to face with Akaashi.

“Tough shit today, huh?” Akaashi spoke again, fidgeting where he stood, not meeting Bokuto’s line of sight. _Cute._

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that from Tsukishima,” Bokuto admitted, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“So…” Akaashi trailed off, finally looking up to meet Bokuto’s gaze. “Your place?”

Bokuto chuckled at Akaashi’s bluntness, but nodded. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Tsukki :(
> 
> Let me know what you think, please! And if anyone has a preference, let me know who's story you want to hear next! <3


	6. Part Six -- Akaashi's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t do that.”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “Cover your smile. It’s beautiful.”

Bokuto’s car was… Not what Akaashi had expected. He hadn’t spent an exorbitant amount of time picturing what his car would look like, but it was definitely a surprise when Bokuto led him to a bright red Tesla. It looked fairly brand-new, and Akaashi almost shied away from it as the paint job seemed to sparkle in the setting sunlight.

“Uh…” Akaashi trailed off as he came to a stop at the passenger side door.

  
Bokuto looked shy, almost bashful, as he rubbed at the back of his neck and opened the door for Akaashi to slide in. “Yeah, sorry, I lost a bet.”

Akaashi waited for Bokuto to walk around and get into the driver’s side, letting the engine purr to life before he spoke again. “You _lost_ a bet, and now you own a _Tesla_?”

Bokuto smirked, his hand resting behind Akaashi’s seat as he careful backed out of the parking space. “I lost a bet, and now I own a _red_ Tesla.”

Akaashi just snorted and took a moment to look at the car. It was the nicest vehicle he’d ever been in, but that wasn’t saying much. He hadn’t had the pleasure of being in too many cars in the first place, let alone cars that had built-in seat warmers.

“Woah, you have bluetooth?” Akaashi asked incredulously, letting his facade slide as he perked up in his seat.

“Don’t most cars have bluetooth nowadays?” Bokuto asked innocently, peering at Akaashi out of the side of his eyes.

“Oh, look at Mr. Rich-Guy over here,” Akaashi teased, wriggling to get more comfortable in the black leather seat. “What am I gonna see when we get to your place, a hot air balloon? Gold doubloons?”

  
Bokuto barked out a laugh, his hands sliding against the hard plastic of the steering wheel as he turned off the main street onto a side road. “Doubloons? Why am I suddenly a pirate?”

“I couldn’t think of any other rich people things,” Akaashi admitted. He let his gaze linger on Bokuto, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips. Bokuto’s laugh really was contagious.

“Well, here we are.” Akaashi thought he heard a hint of nervousness in Bokuto’s voice as they exited the car and began walking towards the apartment building. “I’m on the second floor.”

The ascension up the stairs was silent, just the sound of their shoes scraping against the concrete steps and breaths escaping parted lips. They reached the door, the chipped red paint contrasting with the bright golden numbers. ’1023’. Bokuto unlocked the door and stepped inside first, holding it open wide for Akaashi to follow behind him. They slipped their shoes off, and Bokuto excused himself to the restroom with a brief ‘make yourself at home,’ so it gave Akaashi a few minutes alone to really take in his surroundings.

The apartment was much smaller than he’d expected based off of Bokuto’s car, but it seemed to match Bokuto’s personality. There was a pastel blue couch and a yellow armchair, along with brightly-colored picture frames scattered along the coffee and side tables. The television was large, but nothing too extravagant. Overall, Akaashi was pleasantly surprised at how quaint and almost underwhelming Bokuto’s space was. It was cluttered, but it felt like a lived-in home. It felt like Bokuto.

Before Akaashi could snoop any further, Bokuto returned, and led them into the kitchen. Akaashi made himself comfortable at the counter before swiveling to smirk at Bokuto.

“So, what are we making today, Chef?”

Bokuto grinned and adorned an apron, the classic ‘Kiss the Chef’ stitched onto it making Akaashi giggle. “Chef? Hm, I like that. Well, today I thought we would start with something easy. I have stuff to make tiramisu cupcakes or mini lime and mint cheesecakes.” As he spoke, Bokuto tossed an extra apron to Akaashi, who caught it with a grimace.

“Those sound difficult as fuck, are you sure it’s easy?”

  
“Well, _easier_ ,” Bokuto emphasized, shrugging with a teasing grin. “What, you’re not up to the challenge?”

Akaashi frowned at the implication and donned the apron, cringing at the large owl embroidered on the front in multicolored fabric. Bokuto leaned over and began collecting ingredients and dishes from the refrigerator and cabinets, so Akaashi just stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, waiting for further instructions. He couldn’t help but gaze as Bokuto’s muscles flexed underneath his shirt with every movement he made, and Akaashi found himself mindlessly wondering how his skin would feel underneath Akaashi’s fingertips. But he was quickly pulled from his thoughts when golden eyes caught his attention.

“You okay? I promise it’s easier than it seems.” Bokuto’s smile was warm and genuine, and Akaashi knew that he could get lost in it if he stared for too long. So he looked away, stepping forward with a newfound determination.

“Let’s get started on the tira-whatever-the-fuck.”

With a sly grin, Bokuto gestured towards the ingredients as he set them out along the counter, saying that it was the chef’s duty to acclimate oneself with the ingredients beforehand.

“What the fuck is sour cream doing in a dessert?” Akaashi grumbled, his gaze trailing along the array of items.

“Trust me.”

“What is gonna be in the frosting, ketchup?”

They worked in a comfortable silence, arms brushing as they passed bowls amongst one another. The slight smell of cocoa powder and coffee started mixing with the clean lemon scent of the kitchen, and it was more relaxing than Akaashi had expected. When he had attempted his hand at baking just a few short days ago, it was chaotic; he wasn’t sure what should go first, flour was flying everywhere as he mixed with more aggression than should go into something as simple as baking, and the whole ordeal had made him crave a cigarette more than anything. But with Bokuto quietly explaining the process as they go, letting Akaashi do most of the work but standing directly behind him giving him proper instructions and suggestions as he mixes and molds, Akaashi couldn’t help but think that baking might not be all that bad.

“Alright,” Bokuto huffed, sliding the cupcake tray into the oven before closing it quietly. He spun the egg timer and set it for 10 minutes, mumbling to himself about checking at the halfway point. “Now that that’s taken care of, let’s start on the frosting!”

Akaashi watched, wiping his hands off on his apron, as Bokuto bustled around the kitchen, excitedly pulling things from the cabinets. The final thing, Akaashi noticed, was a small bottle of coffee liqueur.

“Uh…?”

“Oh, I’m not eating any of these. It’s just something I used to like, and I know my friends will like it and stuff…” Bokuto rambled, his face flushing as he realized the implication. “I promise!”

  
“I trust you, Bokuto,” Akaashi quickly interrupted him before he could babble apologies any further, and he realized that he _did_ trust Bokuto. He wasn’t sure on the _why_ yet, but he did.

The ten minutes came and went quickly as they prepared the frosting, and Bokuto showed Akaashi how to use a toothpick to check if the cakes were fully done in the middle. They then set the cakes out to cool, and set the frosting aside to use later.

“Do you wanna watch something while we wait?”

“Uh, yeah sure.” But before Akaashi could follow Bokuto and plop down on the couch next to him, something caught his eye. “You play piano?”

“Ah, not really. My friend got it for me as something to do in my time off. He played, and he tried to teach me, but I never really learned.”

“May I?” Bokuto nodded with a slight frown, watching Akaashi sit at the bench, rolling his shoulders before placing his hands lightly at the keys.

Soft, slow music began floating out from the keyboard, and Akaashi seemed so intent and intense as he kept his gaze trained on his fingers and the keys underneath them. He couldn’t see Bokuto, his back to the man, but the silence coming from the usually-loud man was almost unsettling. So Akaashi stopped mid-song, and looked over his shoulder.

“Wh-Why’d you stop?” Bokuto spoke quietly, his voice cracking. “It was beautiful.”

  
“Really?”

“Keep going?” Bokuto asked, his eyes almost pleading as he sat up from the couch and sat directly next to Akaashi on the bench.

Akaashi continued his performance, his mind no longer laser-focused as he had been, because the feeling of Bokuto’s warm thigh against his was completely distracting. He could feel the goosebumps on Bokuto’s arms when Akaashi would stretch to reach the keys and Bokuto’s breath against his neck when it would hitch at a particular flourish in the music. But more than anything, he could feel that golden gaze trained on his side profile, just out of his peripheral vision, but his face reddened all the same. It seemed like he was playing forever with Bokuto’s eyes on him, but it really was only a couple minutes until he finished the song, letting his finger remain on the final note for longer than necessary.

“‘Kaashi…” Bokuto trailed off, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. “That was… You’re really good.”

“Thanks, Bokuto,” Akaashi murmured, finally turning to meet his line of sight. When had their faces gotten that close? “Bokuto…”

Akaashi wasn’t sure if it was Bokuto or himself leaning in, or if it was both of them, but their lips brushed lightly. Bokuto shivered, and Akaashi mindlessly put his hands on Bokuto’s forearms, as if steadying himself. He felt dizzy, but for the first time since he’d been sober, it was a good kind of dizzy.

“‘Kaashi,” Bokuto said his name reverently, as if Akaashi was something special, something he was afraid to lose.

Just as Akaashi’s eyes shut, and their lips brushed again, a promise of something more just on the horizon, the two were startled at a loud bang at the front door. They shot apart, Bokuto falling off the piano bench with a loud thud and wide, dazed eyes.

“F-Fuck,” Bokuto huffed, an incredulous laugh bubbling past his lips as he hops up to answer the door. “Keep, uh. Keep that thought, please?”

  
Akaashi blushed and shot him a small smile just before the taller man disappeared around the corner. “Will do.” He couldn’t see the front door from here, but he could hear it whip open and loud voices trailing into the apartment.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“What do you mean? You always have dessert for us at this time!” A high, bubbly voice.

“I told you, I was having company over…”

“Maybe we wanted to meet your new friend.” A low, teasing voice.

“But—“

  
“I tried to stop them, Kou, I swear.” A soft, quiet voice.

“As if you wear the pants in the relationship, Kenma.”

Akaashi snorted, standing up and straightening his outfit to look presentable. _I guess I’m meeting his friends_.

“Hey hey, ‘Kaashi? My friends decided to drop by, are you okay with meeting them?”

“Of course.”

Bokuto came back into the room with three more men trailing behind him. One had the worst bedhead that Akaashi had ever laid eyes on paired with narrow eyes and a sharp jawline; the one directly behind Bokuto had wide eyes and flaming orange hair, and seemed to have a permanent bounce in his step; the final man was lagging behind slightly, his face trained on the cell phone directly in front of his face, his dyed blond hair falling to frame his sharp features.

“Guys, this is Akaashi. Akaashi, this is Kuroo, Hinata, and Kenma. They’re my best friends.” Bokuto shyly gestured to everyone as he spoke, fiddling with his fingers anxiously.

“Hello,” Akaashi bowed his head politely and gave them a small smile. “Nice to meet you, Bokuto’s spoke about you all before.”

“Oya? Nothing too terrible, I would hope,” Kuroo smirked at Bokuto and shot Akaashi a wink. “Nice to meet you, Akaashi. Now, Bokuto! Where’s our dessert?”

“Oh! Well ‘Kaashi and I haven’t frosted them yet. Give us just a few minutes, and we’ll have it out!”

“I’ll pick a movie!” Hinata bounded past Akaashi and curled up on the couch before anybody could object, with Kenma slowly following him. Kuroo stood, looking between a blushing Bokuto and Akaashi, his eyes narrowing slightly as he brushed past Akaashi, heading towards the couch.

  
“Hope we weren’t interrupting anything, Kou,” Kuroo mumbled just so the two could hear him, and Akaashi almost missed the glare Bokuto sent at Kuroo’s back.

There was an air of discomfort as Akaashi and Bokuto frosted the cupcakes. He was still kind in his instruction as he taught Akaashi how to properly frost, sprinkling cocoa powder on top. The cupcakes looked really professional, and Akaashi felt a sense of pride swell in his chest as he looked at their creation spread out on a glass plate. He kept side-eying Bokuto, but those golden eyes never looked his way, as far as he could tell. But Akaashi continued looking, taking in the man’s profile with a newfound curiosity. Bokuto was outgoing and bright, not to mention devilishly handsome, and yet with what just happened, he looked incredibly shy and taken aback by the whole ordeal. What was he nervous about?

Aside from the slightly tense interaction with Kuroo when they’d first come in, Akaashi seemed to get along great with Bokuto’s friends. Hinata had chosen for them to watch Angry Birds 2, much to Kenma’s chagrin. But the redhead was so bubbly and excited about the movie that Kenma relented and cuddled closer against the smaller man. Kuroo sat on the opposite side of Kenma with his arm stretched over the back of the couch so he could reach Hinata, and had them pulled against his side as closely as possible. With the couch pretty crowded, Bokuto had offered to sit on the ground, but Akaashi just pulled him to squish beside him in the over-sized armchair beside it.

Which, in hindsight, was a bad decision on Akaashi’s part. While the movie itself was proving to actually be pretty entertaining, Akaashi couldn’t take his eyes off of Bokuto’s profile. His hair had fallen from it’s spiked style into softer locks falling over his forehead, and his eyes would crinkle every time he would laugh. The sharp curve of his jawline would flex with every bend — Bokuto would toss his head back and squeeze his eyes shut every time he laughed, it was quite adorable — and Akaashi once again was overwhelmed with the heat radiating off of his skin. Their thighs were pressed against one another, and their shoulders and elbows would brush each time Bokuto would fidget in his seat.

His features showed that he was content and relaxed, but Akaashi could feel the rigidity of his body, as if he didn’t want to make a wrong move with them sitting that close to one another. With an exasperated huff halfway through the movie, after another uncomfortable squirm from Bokuto, Akaashi stretched his arm over Bokuto’s shoulders, pulling the taller man against his chest. He could feel the hitch of breath, Bokuto going completely still. Akaashi could see out of the corner of his eye Kuroo staring at them, but he kept his eyes trained forward and acted like this was a normal occurrence. After what felt like an eternity, Bokuto melted into his embrace, his head falling back to rest in the crook of Akaashi’s neck, and his hands gently placed over Akaashi’s that were resting on Bokuto’s stomach.

And that was how they remained until the credits began to roll on screen.

“Ah, that was so good! I really liked the part—“ Hinata began babbling to Kenma who, for the first time since they arrived, looked up from their phone to give the redhead his full attention.

“So, _‘Kaashi_ , what’s your damage?”

“Uh, excuse me?” Akaashi asked, confused at the question.

“Kuroo.” Bokuto spoke sternly, pulling away from Akaashi and stiffly sitting up.

“You two met at Kou’s AA meeting, right? So, what’s your damage? How’d you end up there?”

“ _Tetsurou_ , that is none of your business,” Bokuto’s voice was venomous, and if Akaashi hadn’t just heard it, he would have assumed Bokuto could never sound like that.

“What?” Kuroo raised his hands, feigning innocence. “I was just curious, especially since he’s hanging around my best friend. You can never be too careful, amiright?”

“Kuroo, c’mon, that’s enough. Akaashi seems nice!” Hinata tugged at his boyfriend’s sleeve, shooting Akaashi an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, well Konoha seemed nice, and you know how that turned out.”

“Kuroo, that’s enough.” Kenma spoke up, his voice louder than Akaashi had heard it all evening, and with the withering stare he was aiming at Kuroo, he mentally hoped he would never upset the blond man.

Akaashi finally risked a glance at Bokuto, and his heart clinched at the sight. Bokuto’s entire being seemed to _deflate_ , his eyes glazed over and his shoulders slumped forward.

“Hey hey, guys? I’m feeling pretty tired, can we hang out tomorrow?” Bokuto’s voice was quiet but he plastered on a smile.

“Kou…” Hinata started, reaching out towards Bokuto.

  
“Nah, Hinata. I’m okay, really. Just… Tomorrow?” It was as if Bokuto couldn’t keep his words straight, and Akaashi could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to make sense of what he wanted to say.

“Yeah, alright. C’mon, Kenma.”

  
“What, you’re gonna give me the silent treatment now?” Kuroo glared between Bokuto and his boyfriends, avoiding Akaashi’s stare.

“No, but you’ve been kind of a dick,” Kenma yawned, stretching his arms and clasping Hinata’s hand in his own. “Let’s go. Kuroo, find your own way home.”

“What?!”

“And you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Okay, that seems fair, but at least let me ride home with you.”

“Fine, but you’re driving, _and_ you’re getting us ice cream.”

“Fine.”

Their conversation about disagreements and punishments continued as they left, the slam of the front door finally signaling that they’d left.

“So…” Akaashi started, fiddling with his fingers as he tried to think of something to lighten the mood. Coming up with nothing, he let out a long exhale. “I’ll go. I’m sorry, Bokuto.”

Just before he was able to stand, however, a large, calloused hand gripped his own, holding him in place.

“I’m sorry, ‘Kaashi… Can you just… Can you stay? Just for a little bit longer? I know it’s late, and I’m so sorry about Kuroo, so if you’re mad or upset at me I’d understand if you wanted to leave. But if you want to stay over you can, I’ll take the couch and you can take my bed. My bed isn’t all that comfortable, I mean it’s not _un_ comfortable, but it’s a bed, y’know—“

  
“Yes, Bokuto. I’ll stay.”

Akaashi held Bokuto just as they had been during the movie, and the silence between them was finally comfortable and cozy again. Bokuto’s breath was against Akaashi’s neck, warmth and heat spreading across his skin with every exhale. Their arms rested atop each other’s, and their legs were tangled as Bokuto had practically crawled into Akaashi’s lap. As his breathing evened out, and the rise and fall of Bokuto’s chest started getting slower and more drawn out, Akaashi gently shook him.

“Bokuto?” He murmured, pressing his lips to his ear. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Mm, shouldn’t you take me to dinner first?” Bokuto mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

He held Akaashi’s hand as he led them to his bedroom, his thumb caressing Akaashi’s knuckles. Bokuto began pulling extra blankets from the hall closet, muttering something about sleeping on the couch again, but Akaashi pressed his hand over Bokuto’s mouth, effectively shutting him up.

  
“Let’s just go to bed, Bokuto.”

Golden eyes widened slightly as realization set in, and after he stuffed the blankets back into the closet, he dragged them the rest of the way into the bedroom. Akaashi excused himself to the bathroom, and when he came back, Bokuto was curled up on one side of the bed, with the comforter pulled aside to allow Akaashi to slip in beside him. Shyly, Akaashi stepped out of his pants, flopping them over on a chair in the corner before quickly covering himself with the comforter atop the bed.

“I don’t know what you were talking about earlier, this bed is soft as shit,” Akaashi commented, allowing his body to relax as he plopped his head back onto the pillow.

“Is shit soft?”

  
“Shut up,” Akaashi laughed breathily, covering his face.

“Don’t do that.”

  
“What?”

  
“Cover your smile. It’s beautiful,” Bokuto’s voice was almost silent, so if they hadn’t have been as close as they were, Akaashi wouldn’t have been able to make out the words. Akaashi felt his face heat up, the blush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck and chest.

“Bokuto…” Akaashi whispered, turning onto his side to face Bokuto.

“‘Kaashi…”

Akaashi wasn’t sure how long the two stared at one another, gold into blue, and blue into gold. He wasn’t sure when their hands met one another, or when they started to explore one another’s bodies. Skin slid against skin, fingers tugged at hair, and lips finally met in a clash of tongue and clatter of teeth. Long into the night they spent getting acquainted with one another’s lips, legs tangling. Clothes fell to the floor in soft ruffles, the fabric of the comforter rumpled against their ministrations, but they couldn’t care less. As long as they were together, the heat of their bodies complimenting one another, that was all they needed. Just for that night, they needed each other.

And it wasn’t until the next morning that Akaashi realized he hadn’t craved a cigarette since being around Bokuto.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a whore for comments, so leave one if you want :) <3


End file.
